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Prologue
Shadowlands

Darkness, that much was visible. Midnight brought an empty night. No stars, no moon, no clouds. Blackness, empty, foreboding, was everywhere. A small glowing orb emerged from the darkness, followed by another appearing beside it. It was a deep violet color, the black-purple color of the shadows themselves. The orbs were cloudy, as if focused on a far away memory or target. They drifted forward, hovering about five feet from the obsidian floor. A whispering murmur echoed in the vast cavern. The sounds folded over each other, obscuring the words.

Several other pairs of the dusky purple orbs suddenly joined the pair. The murmurs became whispers, and as even more orbs appeared, the whispering became a low chant, still obscured by how the sounds bounced back from the walls and tumbled over the syllables rushing in after them. A slight glow erupted from the center of the cavern. A globe of dusty violet rose from out of the glow. The chant became louder and louder until the words suddenly could be deciphered.

“Low as the UnderStones,
High as the mighty surface skies,
Hear our mighty undertones.
Light of the Shadows, the Lord of Lies,
Arise and heed our darkest pleas,
Come from far ‘cross the UnderSeas,
And show us our target, the One to be eliminated.”

The chanting halted and the cavern silenced. A circle of a purple light was drawn in the middle of the cave. The dark globe flashed and the cave was illuminated with a blue glow. The owners of the dusky purple orbs were revealed. Tall, slim humanoid-like creatures stood, their skin the color of the floor they stood upon. Their silvery white hair was long and somehow pulled behind their pointed ears. They stood as Iythonirods, dark elves, the Rulers of the Shadowlands of the UnderStones.

One elf stepped forward and drew his sword strapped to the black belt wrapped around his waist. The dark armor flexed along with him as he laid the barbed blade on the floor. His white hair wasn’t long or pulled back. It was cropped, cut close to his scalp, giving the top of his head a gray color instead of the deep black of his skin. He nodded suddenly and picked up the hat that he had dropped on the floor. It had a purple feather stuck into it at where the wide rim folded up and was pinned to the bowl-like part of the hat that sat on top of his head. The roguish dark elf smiled, a chilling sight. The flash of ghostly white teeth almost brightened the cavern more.

“We have our target.”
 
Chapter One
The Sapphire

Sunlight flooded into the little lean-to. The canvas contraption filtered the golden rays. The dark lump under the blankets shifted and groaned. The silhouette leaned forward and rubbed its head. Lithe arms stretched and a yawn escaped its lips. The humanoid muttered something as it crawled out of its tent. A female elf stood, resting her slim, but muscular hands on her back and angling her face towards the rising sun. Her skin was dark and her eyes were a deep azure color, almost like the water of the lake only a few paces from where she stood. She rolled up the canvas lean-to and stuffed it into the bag she had hung from the same branch her lean-to was thrown over the previous night. The Iythonirod was dressed in a simple midnight black tunic and leggings of the same color. A thick, sturdy belt was wrapped around her waist, supporting two empty sheaths. The elf leaned down and fished around in the ankle-high grass that concealed the twin rapiers. When she finally found her swords, the elf inspected the steel blades. The shining steel was wrapped in a golden metal that seemed to flow within the steel itself. The elf smiled before sheathing the blades.

“Sapphirianna!” A voice echoed across the clearing. Sighing, the Iythonirod folded her arms after swinging the pack over her shoulder. A man came bounding around a tree, his well-rounded face beet red and sweating. He leaned over and gasped for breath.

“You’re out of shape, calithinrod Calvain. You shouldn’t be running all over the place. You humans, calithinrods my kind call you in my native language, are so impudent, barging into a dark elf’s camp without permission.” The elf spat at the man with the bulging stomach. She raised a silvery eyebrow as Calvain held up a pudgy hand as if to ward off the elf’s remark. “What do you want?” Her voice was soaked in disapproval. The fat man pretended to fiddle with the laces of his large leather boots for a second before the elf grabbed a hold of his sweat-soaked tan shirt and forced him upright. She glared at Calvain, meeting his almond-shaped hazel eyes. He glanced away, nervously pulling his breeches up higher.

“Sapphirianna, don’t go… The children will miss you!” Calvain blurted. Sapphirianna, the dark elf, sighed again irritably. Even so, she blinked slowly and raised an eyebrow again. She yanked a black ribbon from one of the pockets that seemed to cover the outside of her pack. She pulled her long, silvery hair back into a ponytail and tied it off with the ribbon.

“Calvain, your children are delightful, yes, and please forgive me for being slightly disgruntled, I was about to leave anyway. I have stayed here far too long, endangering your community.” Her impatience was evident in her tone. Calvain frowned, his fat lips managing a sloppy pout. The man’s wild brown hair was riddled with gray and looked as if he had just leaped out of bed without bothering to tidy up, other than to throw on some decent clothing, even if they were covered with grease and sweat. Sapphirianna wrinkled her nose slightly at the stench that wafted up her nostrils. Disgusted, she started to clean up the remains of the seven-day camp. Calvain started to move to stop her, but when she gave him a fierce look, he backed off.

“I know your mother will send assassins, but why bother worrying now? The spring festival is this week, why not stay?” Sapphirianna glowered at him, her frown fierce and intimidating, but the village mayor refused to back down again.

“I’ve stayed far too long, Malyior,” she said, using her native word for Mayor. “I must get going. I thank you for the relaxing week, but I have upset too many hunters in your village to be welcomed for much longer.” She placed a hand on the mighty oak tree’s trunk beside her. It groaned softly in satisfaction as she caressed its weathered bark. “Besides, my magicks will be needed elsewhere…” She trailed off as she stroked the old tree. “Sorry, old boy,” she whispered to it, “I’ve got others waiting in line to see the mage called Sapph.” Calvain remained silent as the elf continued her practice. He sighed as the tree straightened slightly as she pulled her hand back. “I’ve halted all plagues for the next decade, you know. My nature magic is rare and needed all over the continent. I can’t reserve myself for just one village.” She fingered the gold chain necklace that was attached to an emerald shaped like a leaf. Calvain smiled, the corners of his plump lips curling upwards.

“You are too good at heart, Lady Sapphirianna. No wonder all of the UnderStones hate you,” he said, referring to the underground world that housed the wicked relatives of the mage that stood, backpack swung over her shoulder, caressing the leaf-shaped gemstone, and smiling.

“Especially the Shadowlands,” Sapphirianna said softly, “That’s where my mother rules.” The pair was silent for a few moments.

“Farewell, Lady Sapphirianna, accredited Mage of the Fallen. May your journey be swift, and your bounty plentiful.” Calvain held his pudgy hand up in the customary farewell of the human country of Alcrier. Sapphirianna did likewise.

“Farewell, Lord Calvain, Mayor of Darmen Village. May your journey be swift, and your bounty plentiful.” She bowed and turned to leave, calling over her shoulder in her native tongue, “Illoch, jahuzad muil calome. Goodbye, friend of mine, journey well.” She caught a glimpse of the Mayor pulling out a greasy handkerchief and dabbing at his eyes before he and the lake were lost to sight due to the enclosing forest of whispering, reverent trees that beheld her approach as if she was a god. She frowned. “Jahuzad, do not worship me as if I were your Duinil, or god, worship the one who created you!” She cried as a vine wrapped itself around her ankle. She coaxed it from her skin and gently patted its emerald green leaves. “My Lord, Yahweh. The God of ancient Israel… One whom many believe has died…” She continued to mutter to herself as she trundled through the forest, trying her best to keep the plants from wrapping protectively around her. She sighed. For the days when I stayed by Calvain’s village… I cannot endanger them, though…

((Work in progress))